Possession
by DONOVAN94
Summary: After Marion Hawke loses her mother, she is utterly lost but is saved from the brink of despair by her faithful companions, yet the rivalry between two men could threaten to send her back into the darkness, this time never to return... can she choose between them? [a Female Hawke/Fenris/Anders romance]


Possession

Chapter 1

"Look, hate to interrupt my own tale, but do you mind if I have a cushion?" Varric's eyes glinted as he looked up at Cassandra, her face slim and stern, her eyes as dark as her short midnight hair. The look she gave him with those eyes was not entirely promising. "You've got me on a stone chair for Ancestor's Sake, I've been here for hours!"

"And you'll stay there until you tell me _everything_," Cassandra's heavily accented voice offered little comfort. Varric sighed and shook his head, lounging back in the uncomfortable stone throne.

"You're no fun," he muttered.

"So," Cassandra said loudly, and Varric knew she was trying to redirect the conversation back to the story. "You mentioned the apostate: Anders? The one who left the Grey Wardens; And the elf slave Fenris?" she looked at him then, her eyes a little curious – the first emotion Varric had seen in her other than demanding and completely aggressive.

"What about them?"

"What was their role in assisting the Champion? They both hated each other from what you've described."

"And they did – sort of."

"Sort of?" Cassandra raised an eyebrow suspiciously.

"When they first met, yes they hated each other – both wanted to rip the other's heart out. But during those three years that followed our venture into the Deep Roads, they began to see each other's worth to Hawke, knew that she needed as many friends as possible. They _almost_ became friends – and I stress the "almost" for a reason, Seeker."

"What happened?"

"What do you think? The inevitable happened: the love of one beautiful woman drove them apart once again." Varric sighed.

"Tell me," Cassandra said.

"After Hawke killed the Mage who kidnapped her mother, she was… she was in pieces. Andraste only knows how she survived such a loss…"

Marian sat, watching the flames of the fire, searching them for something, for some sign, seeking something to close the open wound in her soul. But nothing: no heat from the flames could banish the cold in her heart.

Mother was dead. Murdered, butchered by a bastard Blood Mage! To even remember her mother the way she'd found her… it sent a shiver down her spine and she couldn't stop the whimper in her throat.

Father, Carver, Bethany, and now Mother… She truly was alone now…

"Marian!" she heard Uncle Gamlen's voice from behind her, but it did nothing to stir her from her pit of misery. "Well?!" he demanded in a voice that seemed as loud as to deafen her. "What happened? Is she alive?"

The single tear that tracked down Marian's face was his only answer.

"Oh Maker!" Gamlen whispered, his voice choking on the words. "What happened?!"

"It doesn't matter now," her voice was raw, choked from holding back the sobs in her throat.

"This is your fault!"

"My fault?!" Marian turned to him, her eyes wide and filled with tears of despair for the truth she knew in her heart.

"If you'd been quicker, stronger – she would still be alive!" Gamlen shouted, his eyes blazing. Marian shrank in her chair, feeling as if her heart was being twisted and ripped in two. Her uncle was right, if she had just been that bit more…

When she looked up again, her uncle was gone, and the candles were down low, and the fire was almost out. At that moment, Bodahn was at the door looking in with something like concern in his eyes.

"Come, Messere," he murmured softly as he strode over and gently helped Marian from her chair. For a little man he was surprisingly strong and sturdy as he held her up. Marian's world was a blur as Bodahn helped her up to her room, where he and Sandal helped her into bed. "It'll be alright Messere,"

It wasn't long before she fell into an abyss of miserable sleep.

The night was cold, unusually cold for the season; it was made bitter by the night wind that raced through the Hightown Estate Courtyards. Fenris waited in the shadows, leaning against the alley wall, his dark eyes drifting over the shadows of the night. This had become a habit, he realised: always on edge, searching for hidden enemies that weren't there. Hadrianna might be dead, but Danarious was still out there, even thinking his name sent electricity down his spine, like a snake hissing its defiance.

To distract his mind, Fenris looked up at the Hawke Estate Mansion, wondering if he would see a light in Hawke's room tonight. But no, there was no light, no silhouette against the glass for him to see, nothing to tell him that she was alright. But of course she wouldn't be alright, not after what happened down there… it had been two weeks since that cursed night, but still Fenris remembered Hawke's scream as she held her mother's cold body to her chest, he remembered how when the party had tried to separate her she'd fought back, kicking and screaming. The scream… it stirred too many memories for Fenris, the earliest memories he had: of being strapped to a table, screaming in agony. Hawke's agony at the loss of her mother seemed the same but also like something that belonged to a different world. Hawke had eventually succumbed to her grief, and had collapsed into his arms as he held her tight; Fenris had cradled her in his arms as he'd barked orders to the others, Merill coming with him to take Hawke back to her home, whilst Varric was left to clear up the mess. Since that night no one had heard from Hawke, she'd shut herself in her room, she hadn't spoken to anyone, nothing. And for Fenris, that was the worst part, not knowing whether she was well; he wanted to comfort her, but how could he when he couldn't even remember his mother's face, let alone if he had lost her or not. He pitied her: losing someone you know and love is worse than having no memories of those loved ones at all.

"Master Fenris?" came a voice. Fenris turned to see Bodahn walk down the alley, the little dwarf looking over his shoulder as he approached. Fenris waited impatiently until the dwarf man joined him in the shadows.

"What news?" Fenris asked in a quiet and husky voice. Bodahn fidgeted from foot to foot, like a rabbit shaking with fear before the wolf. But Fenris knew that it wasn't him that Bodahn feared, it was the shame of what he was doing. "Tell me Bodahn," Fenris said, a little softer. "How is she doing?"

"Well, as well as can be expected Messere." Bodahn said. "My boy and I are looking after her as well as we can, she's continuing the pattern now: sleeping during the day and venturing out into the rest of the mansion at night, as she has done the past few days."

"Is she well?"

"Honestly… we don't know." Bodahn met Fenris's gaze, his eyes filled with worry. "She eats well enough I suppose, but she doesn't talk to anyone. She eats the food we give her and drinks the tea but other than that she reads books mostly,"

"And the screaming?"

"My boy Sandal has been mixing a brew for her to drink before she goes to sleep, it's enough that she sleeps without dreams or nightmares,"

"That is a relief," Fenris sighed, during those first nights after her mother's death, Hawke had begun to scream herself hoarse in her sleep, Fenris had been able to hear it all the way from Danarious's mansion across the Estate Courtyard. "Is there anything else?"

"No Messere," Bodahn said.

"Then thank you Bodahn, I appreciate it,"

Fenris went to toss the small dwarf a coin, but the dwarf shook his head his eyes dark as if he were almost insulted. Fenris nodded and went to put the coin away, Bodahn nodded back and turned to go –

"And one more thing Bodahn," Fenris said, his voice stopping the dwarf in his tracks. "You're not betraying her by telling me this; I'm only looking out for her,"

"Oh I know that Messere," Bodahn said softly. "If the Mistress trusts you then so do I,"

"She does?" Fenris didn't know why that was so important, or what had made him ask.

"Yes," Bodahn's beard gave a little twitch of a smile. "She trusts you with her life,"

And then the dwarf was gone.

Fenris slumped against the stone wall behind him; feeling exhausted all of a sudden. It had been a very long two weeks, and it seemed as if no one had been sleeping right.

Then he heard rushed footsteps, heavy enough to be human, but not strong loud slaps in order to belong to a warrior, but was also not as delicate or nimble as a rouge. That meant it was a mage, and headed this way. That could only mean one thing: Anders. Instantly, Fenris felt his skin prickle as the Lyrium in his flesh started to heat up and pulse, but he took a deep breath and tried to calm himself, as Anders approached from around the corner. The apostate mage seemed to be in a manner of urgent haste, and was making a direct line for the Hawke Estate. Fenris pushed himself off of the wall and stormed from the shadows in order to intercept the mage.

"Fenris?" Anders seemed a little surprised to see him there, and stopped for a moment out of curiosity. "What are you doing here?"

"Leaving, and so should you be," Fenris tried to be civil but couldn't stop the edge creeping in to his voice.

"Leave? But I need to see Hawke," Anders protested.

"Now is not the time for a social call Anders," Fenris growled.

"It is a matter of great importance and I need to see Hawke about it, so if you could stand aside I would be grateful." Anders met Fenris with his own barely hidden anger.

"About your precious plea for the mages?" Fenris sneered. "Not tonight Anders,"

"No matter what you do, I'm getting into that house," Anders squared his shoulders so that he came to his full height which was only an inch or two taller than Fneris.

"Anders, you don't realise what's going on, just take my word for it this time and leave,"

"Take your word for it? I don't think so; so back down and run along back to your pit,"

It was all Fenris had not to let his skin catch fire with the heat of the Lyrium, but he couldn't stop himself from punching Anders square in the jaw. He felt the crunch of the mage's teeth, as he flew backwards, and Fenris had to root himself to the spot in order to not follow up the blow with a full on attack.

"ARGH!" Anders shouted and before Fenris could do anything, a bolt of lightning exploded from Anders's staff and hit him square in the chest, sending him flying until he smashed into the brickwork of the mansion. Sliding down the wall, Fenris gasped and groaned as he tried to get his breath back, holding his side as he sat there, completely winded. Only a few moments later, when the world had stopped spinning was he aware of Anders running past him, opening the doors and dashing into the mansion.

"Why can no one lock the bloody doors," Fenris muttered as he staggered to his feet and grabbed his sword as he raced after the mage and into the Mansion. "ANDERS!" he roared.

Fenris ran through the entrance hall into the living room where Sandal and the Mabari hound were sitting by the blazing fire. They looked bemused and for a split second their eyes darted to the study and back. Taking that as his cue, Fenris bolted into the study and took the stairs two at a time into the Library. Anders was already there, standing before a wide eyed Hawke who was sitting in an armchair, her feet tucked under her and a blanket over her legs with a book in her lap. She stared from one to the other, speechless.

"Hawke," Anders said, a little breathless. "It's good to see you –"

"Anders!" Fenris hissed straining to hold himself back – he wouldn't make a scene in front of Hawke like this.

"I need to speak with you," Anders continued, completely ignoring Fenris's warning. "It's about the Circle: I know how we can get Meredith to –"

"Not now Anders," Hawke murmured softly, her eyes going down to the floor, her body almost crumpling in on itself. She carefully closed the book and placed it on the table with her delicate fingers, and made an effort to stand. "If you'll excuse me –"

"What?!" Anders demanded. "Something is _more_ important than the injustice of Mages?!"

"No Anders…" Hawke tried to say, but sighed in defeat. "It's not that, I just… can't deal with this now."

"Can't deal with it?!"

"Anders, I think you should leave," Fenris growled, taking a dangerous step closer to the mage.

"What do you mean you can't deal with it?!" Anders continued. "If we don't do something then all mages will be hunted and oppressed by the abuse of the Templars, is that what you want? Your sister could have been taken by them; she could have been made tranquil! Your parents fought to keep her free, surely that must mean that they want the same for all mages as well. What would your father have said, heck, what will your mother say when she finds out you "can't deal" with something like this?!"

There was complete silence in the room. Hawke looked up, her eyes filled with tears that she was desperately holding back so as not to fall. Anders seemed taken aback, he seemed to deflate, as if realising what he'd done, but surely he could not have known.

"Please go now, both of you," Hawke whispered, her voice trembling, and she left them.

When she was gone, Fenris felt his chest ache with something he now was all too familiar with: longing. But for what Anders had done, Fenris wanted to crush the man's heart in his fist, but knew that Hawke wouldn't want that. So he grabbed the man by the collar of his robes and practically dragged him back through the house and threw him into the street.

"You stupid, arrogant, demon possessed idiot!" Fenris spat as he followed him out onto the street and stood above him.

"What is going on?" Anders asked as he stood to his feet.

"You fool. Do you even realise what you've done?!"Fenris couldn't stop his voice rising towards a shout, his anger seemed to want a release, any release, but he was holding back his lyrium flesh so it had to explode somehow.

"I don't know –"

"Her mother is dead!"

"_What?_" Anders whispered, horror of the realisation and on what he had said finally dawning on him.

"Two weeks ago," Fenris spat. "Hawke, Merill, Varic and I went off to find Leandra after she'd disappeared. We found her murdered and butchered with the parts of other women sown together by a necromancer!"

"Oh, Maker forgive me, I didn't know!" Anders whispered. "I have to see her, I need to apologise," he tried to run back to the mansion but Fenris caught him and threw him back.

"No, you've already done enough harm for one night. Now leave,"

Anders glared at Fenris, obviously wanting to push the matter; but then he looked up at the mansion, and sighed, every bit of energy seeming to leave him.

"I'll be back some other time," he muttered before turning around and leaving.

A few days later, Marian awoke with the midday sun streaming through the window onto her face. She turned over, wanting to escape the tyranny of the sun and sink into the darkness once more; but she was met by a small envelope on the pillow next to her. Confused, and almost mechanically, she reached over and took the envelope, quickly opening it to read the letter inside:

_To my Dearest Marian Hawke,_

_I wish to apologise for what happened the other night, it was unfair of me to storm in on you. But believe me, I had no idea of what has happened to you, if I had then I would never have done what I did. If there is any way that I may make up for this, then please let me know._

_If you ever need me, then I'll be here waiting for you. Call for me if you ever want the company; I am always here to listen and heal._

_Always, and forever yours_

_Anders_

Marian sighed, and rolled onto her back to stare at the ceiling.

Perhaps it was time to get out of this wretched prison, where everything she looked at reminded her of her mother. Perhaps it was time to…

_Three months later_

"Anders?" Marian asked as she came into the clinic, there were only a few people here but clearing out, obviously Anders was done for the day. Anders himself was at the other end of the room, cleaning some equipment and disposing of dirty bandages onto the fire; at the sound of her voice, he looked up and smiled, his narrow pointed face making him look… charming.

"Hawke!" he called, and came over to her, Marian couldn't help but smile at the way his boyish grin seemed to light up his whole face. "What are you doing here?"

"I just…" Marion felt herself going red as she suddenly found it hard to convey the real reason why she was in Dark-town at this hour. "Anders, it's been three months since…" she faltered, and felt the shadows inside her threaten to rise and overtake her once more, but she banished them away, she couldn't fall again, not after everything she'd gone through in order to get this far.

"Go on," he said softly, his eyes concerned, but he kept whatever thoughts in his head to himself, and she appreciated it.

"Right," Marion wet her lips to try and say something, anything. "I want to thank you, for being here for me. It was nice to have someone to talk to about… everything,"

"I understand," he said with a kind smile. "I'm always here for you Hawke, you know that right?"

"Yes I do," she tried to smile back. "It's been good to have you,"

"You say that in past tense… is something changing, between us?" he asked cautiously. Marion felt her cheeks burn crimson as her mind jumped to conclusions of what he meant. She knew he meant their recent doctor-patient relationship, so why did her cheeks burn so fiercely?

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I mean you coming to the clinic, the visits, us… talking," he seemed a little sheepish now. "I don't get out as much as I used to, to have someone to talk to is nice… I miss everyone." He looked at her, his eyes deep with something she couldn't quite read. "I missed you." Marion found herself at a loss for words, and had to close her mouth in order to stop herself from gaping.

"Err, that's… good Anders, good. We miss you too," she looked at her clothes – she'd only put on some clothes from the estate in order to visit – and she tried brushing off imagined dirt and dust on her skirts, anything to stop him from seeing how utterly lost she was. She heard someone outside the clinic, and quickly took the excuse as the panic began to mount within her. "Oh, I should leave you to your work –" she turned her back to him, like the coward she felt she was, and made to walk out of the clinic –

"Don't,"

For some reason his voice seemed to pin her in place, she felt herself bound to the spot. But it wasn't magic she felt – she knew Anders would never try anything like that – but something deeper within herself kept her there. She turned to face him, her eyes suddenly wide and expecting as she met his gaze. Anders seemed caught in the suspense of the moment as well; he could only stare at her just as much as she stared at him. And then, as if gravity was pulling at him, he walked towards her, slowly, heavily.

"Hawke… Marion," Anders' voice was hoarse as he came so close their bodies were almost touching.

"Anders…" she whispered as she could only look up at his face, even though every fibre of her being was aware of how close he was… and how much heat seemed to be generating between them.

"I know you've been through so much," he murmured, his voice comforting as it reached within her, but she heard the slight purr in the back of his throat. "First your father, then the blight, your brother, then moving here to Kirkwall, your sister… and now your mother; you have more on your shoulders then anyone should have to bare," he touched her face, his fingers oddly cool against her hot skin. It was just the slightest touch, but so gentle and delicate, and then he was cupping her face in his palm, feeling the texture of her skin as he stroked her cheek. "But I care about you Marion. I don't want to see you suffer this way, why not let someone else help you – just this once,"

"I don't know how," she whispered under her breath, but even as she wanted to fold into his embrace and weep, she felt something stirring inside of her as she watched his eyes seem to burn with ferocity that she had never seen in him before, and she drew just a little closer to him – just a fraction.

"Just… let me help,"

And then slowly, so as to give her the opportunity to run, he leaned forward and kissed her!

Despite the fact that part of her knew it was coming, Marion still felt herself surprised when their lips touched, when she tasted his sweetness on her mouth. He had kissed her once before, so it wasn't anything new, but he somehow drew that reaction out of her – that she had no control over the situation and had no idea where it was going. He kissed her lips softly, sweetly whilst he waited for her to respond. And despite herself, Marion felt her lips moving to kiss him back, her fingers reach up to entwine in his blonde hair, and allowed her body to press up against his. Only a single moment more, and then she sighed and gave into his kiss, her mouth opening ever so slightly to allow the breath to leave her, and then his tongue was in her mouth. She tasted him, like sugar and vanilla but something else that left a bitter after taste, but she wanted more. In that single moment of her release, they both completely lost themselves to the other. Suddenly Anders was more demanding he swept his tongue over hers, flicking the roof pallet of her mouth, making it tickle; his lips were crushing against hers, his hands grasping at her back, pulling her closer to him, as if he could consume all of her into himself. Marion grabbed the collar of his robes and dragged him down to her, giving as much as she got; she swivelled her hips against his, trying to appease the liquid fire between her thighs, even as she felt his manhood strain against his clothes. His kiss moved from her lips to her chin, and then to her jaw, he nipped at her ear lobe and then he was kissing her neck, Marion's head was swimming as she tried to make sense of what was happening, but was only aware of the heat inside her that made her skin burn and the need for more of this kiss. She felt her body shiver as he stopped kiss and suckle on a sensitive spot on her neck, and she felt him purr with pleasure at the response to his work.

"Anders…" Marion whispered, but she didn't know what she was begging for: for release or for more?

"Marion," he choked out the words, and then abruptly ended the kiss, until they both just stood there, clinging to each other as if they might both collapse like their bones had been liquefied, panting as they stared at the other. "I'm sorry,"

"Anders,"

"No, let me say this," he insisted, his eyes filled with such burning passion but also… contempt. "Justice doesn't approve of this, of us, he believes that you're deceiving us, that you want to sway us from our cause to free the mages. But I… I don't care, Marion. When I'm around you, I feel this burning in me, I can't control myself, I want to have you in every way I can but I don't want to lose you to this… to me. If we go through with this… I've dreamed of you for three years, but I don't know how much self-control I'll have over myself. I would kill me if you –"

"Anders," Marion said firmly, and he stopped as she forced him to look into her eyes. "Just… let me help," and she kissed him again.

And she knew when his control went.

Suddenly his kiss was hungry, as he pulled her too him and he was moving, pushing her so that she was forced to retreat until she hit the wall of the clinic. She felt a little pain as she was winded by the impact, but whatever breath she tried to reclaim, Anders stole it in his passionate kiss. Marion didn't complain, didn't push him away, instead she allowed herself to be lost in the heat of the moment, be gone in the passion of what they were doing… she fought back his kiss, nipping his lip until she tasted his blood on her tongue. He growled though his eyes sparkled with pleasure, but there was no time, for the demand of their bodies overcame whatever would have come next. Marion felt it too; an urgency that she couldn't deny, and wanted so badly she ached for the release. Then she was aware of her fingers fumbling to push aside his robes and unbuckle his slacks; Anders was aware of what she was doing and smiled triumphantly as he then dived to kiss her neck again, striking with his tongue upon her throat and taking the skin between his teeth until it she almost cried out from the pain, before he would then kiss and suckle the raw flesh. Marion struggled for breath, and then she felt his pants fall free down to his knees, and with a hand, she reached down and grasped him.

Anders arched his back and cried out, and Marion revelled in the pleasure she felt at knowing that she had him under control. She stroked him teasingly, taking her time in order to get her breath back as well as to show him that she was the controller here. He looked at her, his eyes brighter than usual, and then suddenly he was lunging forward to kiss her again, his hands grasping her wrists and locking them into place firmly above her head. He kissed her until they were both ready to pass out for air, and then he allowed her arms to wrap around his neck as he leaned back, his eyes never leaving her as his hands grasped her thighs and pushed up her skirts, onto her hips. With ease he hooked those hands behind her knees and hoisted her up as he pinned her between his body and the wall, her legs wrapped around his waist. Marion held her breath with anticipation as she felt his tip just outside her lips. Anders pulled away so that all she could see was his eyes; he held her gaze, his eyes never leaving hers as he pushed himself inside her.

The pair of them both gasped, and Marion felt herself expand around him in order to accommodate him, the liquid of her heat allowing him easy access to her core. Marion almost lost herself there and then, only sheer force of will making her keep her steady as she clung to reality, wanting to be there for everything. Anders gently rocked his hips back and forth, so as to allow for her to adjust to his presence within her, it was almost a tease and Marion hungered for more of him although her insides ached at the intrusion. This wasn't her first time, but it had been a while since then, and her body wasn't used to this. As if he could sense this, Anders kissed her once more and then began to really rock the boat.

Marion felt her body arch as she felt him inside of her, pushing against her tender flesh, working towards a place deep within her. But she wanted more, despite the fact that her climax was fast approaching, she felt like a tiger, ferocious with ravenous hunger. She angled her hips, allowing – impossibly it seemed – for him to slide deeper into her, and she thrust her hips back in time with his rhythm. Anders threatened to tip them both over the edge as he began to pump himself harder, faster, _deeper_ into her, and Marion dug her nails into the back of his neck as she felt the wave of her climax sweep towards her.

"Anders," Marion panted, his name on her lips, the taste of him on her tongue, the jolt of his thrust inside of her, she was completely swept up in his passion, and wanted nothing more than to stay in this obliviousness; she locked her legs tighter around him as she felt it come closer with each of his thrusts that drove her into the wall.

"Marion," he panted, kissing her breast and neck and jaw and lips, he seemed to be everywhere around her, closing in as he strove for the deepest part of her.

"Anders!" Marion cried out as she fell to pieces and honey replaced her.


End file.
